


Hope for the Hopeless

by Saklani



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-25
Updated: 2013-02-25
Packaged: 2017-12-03 14:04:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/699052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saklani/pseuds/Saklani
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Weyoun learns the differences of solids.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hope for the Hopeless

Weyoun sat on a bed in the DS9 Infirmary, nervously watching Odo confer with Captain Sisko and Dr. Bashir. Beside him stood two Federation Security guards. Their presence did not make him feel any more secure.

Odo he trusted, but Odo was a God. The others were mere solids, like himself, but more dangerous than the Founders could have anticipated. The Founders were dying because of these solids.

Weyoun feared them.

Sisko and Odo approached him, and Weyoun looked hopefully at Odo. The Changeling was impassive, and Weyoun found no comfort in his expression.

“The Constable tells me that you wish to help the Federation win the war, on the condition we save the Founders,” Sisko said.

Weyoun nodded. “The Founders are dying,” he said in his sonorous voice, “and only you can save them. Dominion scientists have worked for years vainly trying to combat the disease. Time is running out. I am willing to give you all the information I possess, if you provide the cure to the disease.”

Sisko pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Starfleet will be interested in your offer, but they will want some gesture of your sincerity.”

Weyoun had anticipated this. “There is a ketracel-white facility on Skrrea. I will give you a full listing of its armaments and personnel, as well as the routes of patrolling vessels. I will also supply you with the technical information relating to the strengths and weaknesses of Jem’Hadar Warships. Will that suffice?”

“I think that would be an excellent way to prove your sincerity. How long will it take you to get the information ready?”

“Three hours, Captain, provided I am free to leave the Infirmary.”

Sisko signaled Bashir. “What is Weyoun’s condition, Doctor?” he asked, when the doctor came near.

“I would advise rest, Captain. His injuries were quite extensive. I have completely healed the majority of them, but....”

“I’m afraid he doesn’t have time to rest, Doctor. Starfleet needs to hear of his offer immediately, and he requires time to prepare his information.”

Bashir stiffened. “I recommend against it. He is in no condition for....”

“Will he die if he does four hours of work?” Sisko asked quietly.

“I cannot guarantee....”

“Will he die?” Sisko repeated in a low and dangerous voice.

“There is a slight possibility,” Bashir replied, steel in his tone. “I doubt Starfleet wants you to endanger the life of so important a person.”

The Captain bristled. “The longer he remains here, the higher the risk of a Dominion attempt to kill him or attack on this station. I want him to make his offer and get off DS9 as fast as possible. So, unless you tell me he will keel over, he’s going to make his report now. Is that understood, Doctor? ”

Bashir glared, but nodded slightly.

Weyoun, whose hearing was extremely acute, had heard the whole exchange. The doctor’s attitude astonished him. Why should the Terran care so much about his well being?

Before he could pursue this line of thought, Sisko addressed him again. “Odo will escort you to your quarters and make sure you have the proper equipment. The Security guards will remain in the room with you.”

Weyoun nodded his understanding, He carefully got off the bed and followed Odo and Sisko out of the Infirmary, the Security guards in tow.

Before he was out of his eyesight’s poor range, Weyoun shot one final glance at Bashir. The Terran doctor still gazed angrily at Sisko. Then, he was out of sight, and Weyoun had other things to worry about.  
**********

Six hours later, Bashir sat in the Infirmary, trying to focus on his work, but his mind kept replaying the day’s events.

How could Sisko have been so cruel? Even if he didn’t die from working so soon after being grievously injured, Weyoun would suffer tremendous pain from his still healing wounds. A few hours of rest, that’s all Bashir wanted for his patient.

He sighed. The war had made everyone a little more willing to bend their morals. In a way, Julian could scarcely blame Sisko for being impatient, now that a possible end was in sight.

His combadge beeped, and Julian’s heart sank. He knew what this was.

“Bashir here,” he said, hitting the badge.

“Could you report to Deck 12, Room 23, Doctor,” a soft voice asked. “I’m afraid I’m not feeling very well.”

“I’ll be right there,” Bashir said, grabbing his medkit.

Julian practically sprinted the whole way. A Security guard met him at the door and led him inside.

Weyoun lay on the couch, holding his side. A second guard stood nearby, glaring at him suspiciously. Bashir quickly knelt beside the Vorta, taking readings.

“Damn. You’ve started bleeding internally again. You need to go back to the Infirmary. You shouldn’t have been up at all.”

Weyoun regarded Bashir with interest. “If it had been possible, I would have gotten the rest you instructed.”

“It’s not your fault,” Julian said. “Computer, medical emergency, two to beam directly to the Infirmary.”

“Sir, that’s not....” one of the guards started to say, but they were already beaming out.

As soon as they go tot the Infirmary, Bashir got Weyoun on a bed. He called for Nurse Jabara and began making preparations for surgery.

He readied a hypo and walked over to Weyoun’s side. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to operate again,” he said, placing the spray at the Vorta’s neck, “but you’re going to be all right.”

“Thank you, Dr. Bashir, for taking such good care of me,” Weyoun said. His voice held an unusual amount of warmth.

“If I were really taking good care of you, I would not have allowed Sisko to make you work.” He glanced up in disgust, as the two Security guards ran into the room.

Weyoun tried to reply, but sleep claimed him as the hypo took effect.  
**********

When Weyoun woke up, Dr. Bashir was gazing down at him. “How are you feeling?” the Terran asked softly.

“A bit disoriented, but the pain is gone,” Weyoun said.

“Good,” Bashir said. “Provided you get some rest this time, you will be fine. You lost a lot of blood, however, so the dizziness and disorientation might take awhile to completely go away. I want you to stay in the Infirmary for awhile, as a precautionary measure.”

“And so you can make sure I get the rest?” Weyoun questioned. He shifted slightly so he could see the doctor better. His prone position would have made him feel imsecure around most solids, but he felt comfortable around the kind Bashir.

Bashir grimaced slightly. “Yes. I want to be sure nobody interrupts your rest.”

“You are going to great lengths for me, Doctor,” Weyoun said. “I fear I am not worth the trouble. I was made to be your enemy.”

“You’re _not_ my enemy, you’re my patient. I swore an oath when I became a physician to take the best care possible of my patients. I didn’t do that for you before, but I will make sure you are not mistreated again.”

Weyoun gazed at the Terran in wonder. He was unused to such passion. The Founders, the Jem’Hadar and other Vorta lacked real emotion. He wondered if this kind of spirit was what made the Federation such brave warriors. He wished to possess the same kind of fire.

Bashir did not notice the intensity of Weyoun’s stare. He continued to talk. “I will be returning to my work, but if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Actually, Doctor, if it isn’t too much trouble, I would like a glass of water.”

Bashir smiled. “Of course.” He went to the replicator and ordered a tall glass of cool liquid.

Weyoun accepted the beverage and downed half of it. “That is refreshing,” he said. “Thank you, Dr. Bashir.”

“I wish you’d stop thanking me. I don’t deserve it.”

Weyoun tilted his head, trying to bring the Terran into better focus. “I disagree. I think you have been very kind to me. But then, I know little about kindness. The Jem’Hadar live to serve, not to be nice. And the Founders are Gods and have no need to show mere solids kindness, ” he said reverently.

Julian flinched. “I question any gods who do not treat their followers with kindness,” he said with conviction. “Odo is one of the finest men I know and has shown kindness on many an occasion. Yet, by your definition, he is a god. Why should he bother to care about us mere solids?”

Weyoun sighed sadly. “He does not care for all solids.”

“You make Odo uncomfortable,” Bashir said softly, “because you think he is a god. He doesn’t know how to act around you, but I doubt that he dislikes you.”

The Vorta looked at Bashir with his incredible blue eyes. “I wish I could believe that. Despite my being different, I still want the Founders to think well of me... to like me.”

“There’s no shame in wanting to be liked, Weyoun,” Bashir said.

A tremble passed through the Vorta’s body. “It is not part of our original design, this desire to be liked. I am flawed in more ways than one.”

“I think you are blessed, not flawed,” the Terran said.

“A blessing- to desire such feelings and live amongst people who hate me?!” Weyoun asked.

“You are not our enemy.”

“No, but who will see past my face? Other Weyouns have been your enemy and helped to kill millions of people. Who can forget that? Who will see that I am not just another Weyoun?”

“I already do,” Bashir said.

This statement caught the Vorta off guard. No response came to his mind, but his heart swelled a little inside him.

“Now, you need to get some more rest,” Bashir said.

Weyoun offered no resistance, as Bashir helped him lie down on the bio bed. His eyes followed the doctor’s every movement. When Bashir turned to leave the room, Weyoun called after him, “Dr. Bashir, are all the people in the Federation as forgiving as you are?”

Bashir smiled over his shoulder. “Many of them try to be.”

“Then perhaps there is hope for all of us yet,” Weyoun said.  
**********

Weyoun awoke suddenly, his every sense on alert. His sensitive ears picked up the faint noise of somebody breaking into the Infirmary.

He sat up. “Dr. Bashir?” he called softly.

Silence.

“What’s the matter, Vorta?” one of the Bajoran security guards demanded.

Weyoun turned toward the voice, but could not see anybody. “Somebody has broken into the Infirmary,” he said.

“You’re imagining things,” the other guard said.

A phaser beam lanced across the room and caught the speaker in the chest. The other security guard got off one blast before a shot hit him in the side.

Weyoun scrambled off the bed and crouched near the floor. He heard the assassin move to the guards and grunt in satisfaction at finding them dead. The footsteps approached him, and Weyoun fought to keep from making any noise.

Bright lights suddenly filled the Infirmary. “Weyoun,” Dr. Bashir called, “is everything all right?”

“Look out, doctor!’ Weyoun cried.

Bashir dodged the phaser blast by an inch. He hit the floor and rolled. “Security to the Infirmary,” he called.

Cursing, the assassin fired another shot at the Terran. Again, Bashir avoided the beam. He got to his feet and charged the other man.

The attacker deflected Bashir easily. He backhanded Bashir and sent him flying into the wall. With a growl of triumph, he raised his phaser to kill the doctor.

Weyoun scrambled from behind the bed and grabbed one of the discarded phasers. He shot the assassin in the back, a long, sustained blast.

The man screamed in fury and pain. He liquified before their eyes before exploding into blobs of goo.

Weyoun wailed in grief. “I’ve killed a Founder!” He threw the phaser across the room. “I’ve killed a God!”

Bashir dragged himself to Weyoun’s side and put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “And saved my life.”

Weyoun looked up at him with sorrowful eyes. “He was... was... a Founder. I have killed a God. What am I going to do?”

“Would you have let him kill me and you if you had known?”

“No,” Weyoun admitted.

“He forced you to kill him. It isn’t your fault,” Bashir said. He helped the Vorta to his feet, as security guards began filling the room.

“If it had just been me, I would rather have died than kill a Founder,” Weyoun admitted softly, “but I could not let him kill you.”  
**********

Julian Bashir rang the chime on Weyoun’s quarters. A security guard opened the door and allowed him inside.

I’d like some time alone with my patient, if you please,” he said.

The guards nodded.

“We’ll be outside, Sir,” one of them said.

Bashir watched the four exit, before searching the rooms for Weyoun. He found the Vorta sitting on the bed.

“Hello, Dr. Bashir,” Weyoun said softly.

“How are you doing? I hope the debriefing was not too hard on you.”

“It was tiring,” Weyoun said, “but I’m all right.”

“May I sit down?” Bashir asked.

“Of course.” Weyoun’s eyes widened as Dr. Bashir sat down beside him.

“I wanted to thank you again for saving my life and ask you about what you said.”

“What did I say?” Weyoun asked, although he knew.

“About killing the Founder to save me,” Bashir said.

The Vorta averted his eyes and stared at the floor. “I just wouldn’t want anything to happen to you. You’ve been nice to me. I... like you.”

Bashir smiled. “I’m glad. I feel so terrible about letting Sisko mistreat you. It means a lot that you can forgive me.”

“You don’t mind that I like you?” Weyoun asked.

“Of course not! Why would I?”

The Vorta studied Bashir’s face carefully. Without warning, he leaned forward and placed a chaste and slightly awkward kiss on Bashir’s lips.

Julian jerked back in surprise.

“You are offended,” Weyoun said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean...”

“I am not offended, just surprised,” Julian said, stopping the Vorta’s apology. “I didn’t understand what you meant when you said you liked me.”

“I know nothing about these kinds of things,” Weyoun said.

The Terran smiled. “It is not your fault. I thought you liked me as a friend and nothing more.”

Weyoun lowered his head. “I do want you as a friend, but I want more, too. I don’t know how to explain...”

“I understand,” Julian said. He hesitated a second, torn over what to do.

“You’re not interested,” Weyoun said, seeing Bashir pause. “I don’t blame you. I suppose I am hardly attractive.”

Julian tilted up Weyoun’s chin. He looked into the Vorta’s sad face and made his decision. “You are attractive,” Julian said. He kissed the Vorta softly.

Weyoun’s skin tinged a faint purple with embarrassment. “I must tell you, the Founders didn’t... I mean, I’m not designed... my sexual organs... I don’t work properly...”

Julian reached out and stroked Weyoun’s ear ridges. A shudder worked down the Vorta’s spine. He leaned into the caress and a rumble of pleasure escaped his throat.

“Has anyone told you that you have the most magnificent eyes? I have never seen ones so luminous,” Julian whispered. He continued rubbing Weyoun’s ear ridges.

Weyoun whimpered.

“I won’t hurt you,” Julian said. He pressed another kiss to Weyoun’s lips.

The Vorta responded tentatively to Julian’s mouth on his. He matched the pressure and movement, and Julian murmured appreciatively. Julian’s tongue ran over Weyoun’s mouth, until the Vorta finally got the idea and allowed it inside.

Weyoun pulled back for air. His head spun pleasantly, and he thought he might faint. Bashir knew what he was doing.

//But do I?// Weyoun wondered.

“Are you all right?” Julian asked. “I’ll stop if you want me to.”

“This is a little overwhelming,” Weyoun said. “No Weyoun has ever felt like this. I don’t know how to deal with all this... emotion.”

Julian smiled. “The first time is always like that.”

“Were you afraid the first time?”

The Terran laughed. “Was I ever! I made a mess of everything because I was so anxious.” He sighed in remembrance.

Weyoun smiled in response to Bashir’s laugh. “I don’t want to ruin this. I may never get another chance to be... loved again.”

Bashir put a finger on Weyoun’s lips. “Hush. I don’t want you to think that way. Shall I continue?”

Weyoun nodded and gasped when Julian caught his mouth again. Their tongues intwined, as Weyoun discovered all the wonders of kisses.

Julian unzipped his uniform and pulled it down to the waist. Breaking the kiss, he yanked off his violet turtleneck and tossed it on the floor. He took Weyoun’s hands and placed them on his bare sides.

Weyoun ran his fingers over the soft, golden skin. The feel mesmerized him. “What should I do?” he asked.

“You’re doing fine,” Julian said.

“Please, show me,” Weyoun said.

Julian guided the hands to his nipples. “Touch me there.”

Weyoun fingered the nubs. They hardened under his touch, and Bashir breathed faster.

“Yessss,” Julian hissed. “Please, use your mouth.”

“My mouth?” Weyoun said, but Bashir merely groaned an answer. The Vorta leaned forward and took a nipple into his mouth. He worked it gently with his teeth. Bashir’s cries of pleasure amazed him, and Weyoun sucked more enthusiastically.

“You have a talent for this,” Julian gasped.

Weyoun pulled away from the nub. “I do?” he asked, pleased.

“Yes,” Julian said. “May I touch you as well?”

Weyoun felt afraid. “I don’t think you will like my body, doctor.”

“Call me Julian, and don’t be ridiculous. I know you will delight me.”

Weyoun allowed Julian to remove his tunic. He tinged purple in embarrassment again when Julian studied him. “Do I please you?”

Julian ran his fingers over the baby smooth skin of Weyoun’s chest. There were no markings on any kind on the whole expanse. But Julian felt hard muscle beneath his fingertips.

“Yes, very much,” he said. He leaned in and trailed soft kisses down Weyoun’s stomach.

The Vorta sighed and relaxed. He felt an odd tingling at his groin.

Julian lowered Weyoun back unto the bed, still working his way down the Vorta’s abdomen. He reached the edge of Weyoun’s pants and impatiently tugged them off. The Vorta wore nothing underneath the pants, and Julian gasped at the sight which greeted him.

“Damn, you were afraid I would not like this?” Julian asked. He fondled the Vorta’s long, double- headed cock.

Weyoun gasped. “It... it doesn’t work,” he choked out.

“Seems fine to me,” Julian said. He licked the erect length from tip to base.

Weyoun reached down and wrapped his hands in Julian’s hair. He pushed his groin toward the teasing mouth. Julian chuckled, but took an inch of one head into his mouth. He sucked gently at it, while stroking the other head.

Weyoun thrashed on the bed, his senses overloading. The intensity of this experience was more than anything all of the Weyouns put together had ever known. He felt himself near the edge of some peak and then plummet off.

“Oh... oh... by the Founders!” Weyoun screamed. His cock heads pulsed in Julian’s hand and mouth, but he did not ejaculate.

Julian pulled away, as Weyoun’s impressive sex wilted in his hand. He watched the Vorta experience the last traces of his first orgasm. “Like that?” he teased.

“I never imagined,” Weyoun said, “that any physical experience could be so intense. Thank you for sharing it with me.”

“My pleasure,” Julian said warmly. “Would you mind doing the same for me?” He indicated the bulge in his pants.

Weyoun licked his lips. He removed the rest of Julian’s clothes and admired him. The slender, but long sex smelled wonderful. Weyoun rubbed his face in Julian’s groin. The musky odor from Julian’s loins intoxicated him.

“Oh dear Gods,” Julian said. “Please...”

Weyoun fondled the sac beneath Julian’s sex. “This is beautiful,” he whispered.

Beyond speech, Julian thrust toward Weyoun. The Vorta began stroking the slender organ.

“You don’t know how wonderful this is for me,” he said, as Julian responded to his ministrations. “I can hear your heart beat faster because of me. Me.”

Julian hit his peak and seed coated Weyoun’s hand and Julian’s belly. Curious, the Vorta licked his hand clean. He found the texture to his liking and set about removing all traces from Julian’s body as well.

“Mmmmm,” Julian moaned. “You are a conscientious lover.”

Weyoun smiled. “Your texture is wonderful. I could lick you all night.”

“Unfortunately, you need to rest,” Julian said, “or I would take you up on your offer.”

“Another night, perhaps?” Weyoun asked eagerly.

“For as long as you stay on the station, I am happy to be your tutor in these matters,” Julian said.

“I promise to be a careful student and do my work thoroughly.”

Julian pulled Weyoun down beside him. “What more could a teacher want?” He chuckled suddenly.

Weyoun looked at him. “What are you laughing at?”

“Those poor guards. I don’t think they knew they would be standing outside the door all night.”

“You are going to stay?”

“If you want me to,” Julian said.

Weyoun snuggled into the taller man, laying his head on Julian’s shoulder. He reveled in the warmth of the Terran’s body. “I do.”

“Good, because I don’t think I can move right now,” Julian said. He closed his eyes. “Goodnight, Weyoun.”

“Goodnight, Julian,” Weyoun said. //My love.//

The Vorta closed his eyes and tried to sleep. His mind refused to allow him the rest. It insisted on replaying the days events, from horrible start to delightful finish.

And as he reviewed the day, Weyoun suddenly realized what made him different from all the other Vortas and all the other clones of Weyoun.

//I can love,// he thought. //That’s why I’m so different. That’s why they fear me, and why they hate other solids. Because unlike them, we can love.//

He shivered, and Julian put an arm around him. Weyoun warmed from the mere touch.

//And now I understand,// he thought. //Lying beside a man who should be my enemy, I know why the Founders hate solids. They are envious. For all their strength, they have no feelings, no love.//

He looked into the face of Julian Bashir and felt his heart swell. //My teacher,// he thought, //I will always value everything I learn from you, as I will always love you, Julian Bashir.//


End file.
